Never Again
by Kyoko Makashiro
Summary: After Iroh is struck down by Azula, what would be Zuko's thoughts as he waits for his uncle to wake up? Born in the middle of the night, this is what I think happened.


Never Again

**This is my first attempt to NOT put an original character of mine into a story, so please keep that in mind if you review this story. It has been a year since I've written those other stories, and I've learned much since then. The most important being that original characters that just take up space shouldn't be there. **

**And if you review, asking why I won't delete my other stories, save your breath. I am keeping those up to remind myself. Enough of my rant, and onto the story now.**

He'd always remember the day Azula, his cursed, little, annoying snip of a sister, struck his uncle. Seeing him go down, smoking strips of his peasant clothing waving like flags in the tensioned air, the exiled Fire Nation prince had felt something rip through his chest, take his breath away. He'd always remember that while the smoke cleared from their combined elemental attack, to reveal that his wretch of a sister had escaped, he had ran to his uncle's side with the speed only the apprehensive could achieve.

Staring down in sheer horror at his injured uncle with his ash-white face while sitting by his side, Zuko could only barely hear the voice of the Avatar as he held his arms to his head, groaning. Snarling in unknown rage at the interruption, Zuko had struck out blindly, wanting to shut the voice up. As the Avatar's troupe ran cautiously away, leaving him alone, all he had thought, all he could think of was how he wanted to kill his sister. To put to violent rest those mocking eyes, so no one would see them leering in derision again.

Taking his uncle to a more comfortable house that wasn't too far and laying his uncle oh so gently down, Zuko had almost dropped the burn cream's jar twice before holding it still with his shaking hands and scooping out generous amounts and applying them to Iroh's burned shoulder and chest. Funny, the welts reminded him of his own, a reminder from a tyrant father of his humiliating exile. His uncle's breathing was still ragged however, and so dangerously soft as well that Zuko didn't have any faith in either his uncle living or dying; it was all too uncertain.

But soon, his breathing stabilized into a steady and healthy pattern. After a while, he even started to snore, and Zuko felt his chest relax and let his shoulders come back down from where they had been clenched around his neck, like he had been in a snowstorm with no coat. Sighing, Zuko leaned back against a crumbling wall, thanking his lucky stars, if he had any, that he knew his uncle would live. Zuko started a pot of tea, albeit clumsily, seeing as he didn't really know how to prepare tea at all. But as the hours passed, minute by minute like grains of sand in an hourglass, he felt his disciplined mind begin to wander, and Zuko closed his eyes and let himself slip away, and opened the doors to his mind to anything that might come across his way. But all that came was a simple statement, and it rang continuously throughout the corridors of his mind.

_I almost lost something today._

Although it scared Zuko deep inside, he knew it was true. But he wasn't like he was when he was just a young boy; no longer did despair blossom inside his heart when he acknowledged this statement, rather, whenever this happened, he stilled his heart, and refused to let it take root. He'd shoot it down where it stood.

_I may have almost lost my uncle, I know. And when I was but a child, I lost my dignity and honor, as well as part of my face. I've lost so much. _ His rough left hand, made so by recent work with swords, flitted across his scars, just for a second.

He had made plenty of promises and vows in the past, but they were all pushed aside for the moment by a new oath, one he knew he would fight for with all of his body, all of his stubborn spirit, and all of his life's fire. One that burned like a brand in his mind, a promise that wouldn't leave him be. Even his vow to capture the Avatar was rudely smothered down, even for just a while.

Holding his left arm straight in front of him, turned towards the rising sun as if trying to grab it, he balled it into a fist. And he promised, almost as if to the sun which stood the quiet and only witness to his conviction. He knew that, in time, he'd probably forget what he grimly promised this day, but it didn't matter to him right now. He felt like he wouldn't be able to sleep without this. And so, he let it echo in the air as he half said, half whispered two words. Amber-yellow eyes caught the first rays of sun, shining off the little specks of almost-white gold in them like finished jewels. His eyes slanted dangerously, mirroring his still-smoldering feelings on his wretched little sister.

"Never again."


End file.
